


And the Trompe L’oeil Falls Away

by Rehfan



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Episode 7 Tangent Fic, F/M, First Time, Heterosexual Sex, Robot Sex, Train Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:59:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9314609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehfan/pseuds/Rehfan
Summary: His soon-to-be brother-in-law kept trying to remind him that the whole thing was fake. They couldn’t even get shot. The hosts couldn’t hurt the guests. They were programmed not to. So it was easy for Logan to adjust to this place. Logan could see the false fronts of all the buildings and faces, but William could not. It was a trompe l’oeil that was so delicate and fine that it could scarce be anything but completely real. Like the marble sculptures by Corradini or Bernini where the stone was carved so thinly as to allow light to pass right through the veils on the figures, giving the illusion of flowing gossamer cloth, this place was the same. All one had to do was tip one’s perspective slightly, let the light shine through… and let go.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The dialogue in the first portion of this story is taken directly from the actual filmed scene in S1 Ep7.  
> This is NOT meant as any kind of copyright infringement. I own no characters, settings, scenes, or anything else from HBO's Westworld.  
> Please do not sue me.

When they began it was organic. It was completely natural to pick up that can in the street. It was also natural to smile back at her shy smile. But he was aware that behind her smile were servers and gears, wires and circuits and who knows what else that made her tick. Only she didn’t tick. She breathed. She blinked against the sunlight. She cocked her head to one side charmingly, disarmingly. It was easy to let himself drift toward her, talk to her, want to say the right phrase to earn another of her shy smiles.

  
But so much had happened since that day. Had it been a day? A day and a night, at least. A day again since Pariah. Now they were on a train heading through Ghost Nation territory, the carriage swaying with the motion of travel, the sound of the wheels on the track seeming to repeat _go back go back go back go back_. But there was no going back. Not for them. There were too many dead.

  
_But they weren’t real!_ William shook his head and tried not to see the shocked expression that flicked behind his eyelids every time he closed them; the look of the unarmed man he shot dead yesterday. _He was a host. He was a host. He wasn’t real. None of this is real._

  
And there she was across from him. Her warm smile settling on him like a summer breeze. She was so real. She was so alive. It was difficult to imagine her on a technician’s table somewhere being spliced together out of spare parts, carved out of someone’s imagination and created in a laboratory. It was unthinkable that this gorgeous creature - for she was completely gorgeous - could somehow be part of a waking dream.

  
His soon-to-be brother-in-law kept trying to remind him that the whole thing was fake. They couldn’t even get shot. The hosts couldn’t hurt the guests. They were programmed not to. So it was easy for Logan to adjust to this place. Logan could see the false fronts of all the buildings and faces, but William could not. It was a _trompe l’oeil_ that was so delicate and fine that it could scarce be anything but completely real. Like the marble sculptures by Corradini or Bernini where the stone was carved so thinly as to allow light to pass right through the veils on the figures, giving the illusion of flowing gossamer cloth, this place was the same. All one had to do was tip one’s perspective slightly, let the light shine through… and let go.

  
“You’re supposed to be resting.”

  
Her voice was soft, the lilt in it gentle and loving as though she could actually feel concern for him.

  
He knew his smile was weak and false, but he gave it to her anyway. “We’re riding a train full of explosives through scalping territory. Not sleepy.” He crossed to her and sat down. “Can I ask you something? This place you’re looking for, what makes you so sure it exists?”

  
“I’m not,” she said. “My life before, I was so sure of the world. But now it feels like a lie. Only thing I know is whatever’s out there, I’m never going back.”

  
William said nothing, only nodded slightly, but her words were an echo he felt himself. An echo he had felt now for some time about his own life outside the confines of Westworld.

  
“What is it you’re looking for?” she asked him. It was a good question. “Lawrence is right. You could’ve stayed in Pariah or gone back, but you’re here. With me.” She was smiling at him again. She was so disarming. William didn’t know if he was blushing at her insinuation that he fancied her or the fact that he realized that he was blushing and that was making him blush. He scrambled for an answer that would take the awkwardness from the situation away.

  
“The only thing I had when I was a kid were books. I used to live in them. I used to go to sleep dreaming I’d wake up inside one of them ‘cause they had meaning. This place, this is like I woke up inside one of those stories. I guess I just wanna find out what it means.”

  
“I don’t want to be in a story. All I want is to not look forward or back,” she said, leaning toward him, her eyes alight. “I just want to be… in the moment I’m in.”

  
Her smile lit up the train carriage and there was an unspoken request that lingered in their eyes. _Kiss me, William. Love me, William. Take me, William._ The thought of touching her skin was intoxicating and he let his head swim for a minute. Golden hair, blue eyes, porcelain skin, she was almost too much to look at, as though he expected some punishment for staring too long. It felt irreverent. No, he realized, he just felt guilty.

  
He thought of Juliet back home. Unlike Delores, her hair and eyes were dark, but her skin was peaches and cream and had he ever made mention of it she would have giggled at the compliment. Juliet was, in her way, too sweet for him.

  
She was a spoiled rich girl without meaning to be and William supposed that that was the only thing that made him want to marry her. He admired that unencumbered way she carried herself through the well-to-do class that was so effortless, natural without being superior. He could tolerate that for a lifetime. He remembered breathing a sigh of relief to discover that she wasn’t some heartless bitch who saw herself as better than everyone, or worse, a woman who didn’t see other people at all. But Juliet was compassionate, aware of her privilege, and, as a result, William had been sweeter to her than even he had expected to be, hardly believing his luck in successfully wooing her.

  
She had no idea that marrying the boss’ daughter was in his plans all along. She had no idea that she was supposed to be just a stepping stone to a better life that William was trying to make for himself. Had she had an inkling of his well-laid-out plan for his life, she would have been horrified. So he kept up the charade of ‘fitting in’ and smiled when he was supposed to smile, laughed - but not too loudly - and generally played the part of the lower-class-milquetoast-done-good.

  
Juliet’s parting words were in his ear as he looked into Dolores’ sweet face: “Be good now. Have fun - but not too much fun. I love you, Billy.”

  
He frowned. He couldn’t do this to her. Juliet had been too kind. “Delores, back home, there’s a woman, Juliet, and her father owns the company where I work.”

  
“She’s Logan’s sister.”

  
“Yeah.” He winced slightly at his next words: “And when I get home, we’re getting married.”

  
Her smile melted into a stricken look. “Oh.” She leaned away from him then, seeming to need the separation in order to collect herself.

  
He could see that he had hurt her. He wanted to make it up to her. She should be told of his intentions. “The place you’re after,” he said, “I will help you find it. But I can’t stay. I have a life waiting for me. I’m sorry.”

  
She had paled and her eyes were beginning to swim with tears unshed. “Of course,” she managed before she moved off and away from him, leaving out the door at the back and into the baggage car.  
As soon as the door closed behind her, William knew that it didn’t matter. Juliet and how he felt about her would keep. Returning to her would be like falling asleep again. Sleepwalking through a life that would make him comfortable and marginally happy, but never truly fit him. But here, in this place, there was no sleepwalking and he had to do something.

  
He rose and went after her, hesitating for a fraction of a second in the open air before making the small leap over the coupling and entering the baggage car.

  
She was standing still in the middle of the car, her arms wrapped about herself, seemingly willing herself not to openly sob. William closed the door gently behind him and approached her slowly as if she were an injured rabbit.

  
“Delores.” Her eyes met his, her cheeks wet, her eyes forlorn. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to her; there was no plan. But in this place, there didn’t need to be one. He could truly just be himself. The honest explanation, the one that would’ve damned him in the outside world, easily came to his lips. “I’ve been pretending my whole life. Pretending I don’t mind, pretending I belong. My life’s built on it. And it’s a good life. It’s a life I’ve always wanted. But then I came here and I get a glimpse for a second of a life in which I don’t have to pretend. A life in which I can truly be alive.” He stood before her now, the small steps toward her carrying him within inches of her frame. She turned to face him, her expression open, expectant. William could feel the tears in his own eyes. “How can I go back to pretending when I know what this feels like?”

  
Gently, reverently, William took her face in his hands, cupping it as though she would break, and softly placed a kiss to her mouth. She was sweet and warm and responded to him in kind and soon they were entwined in each other’s arms, finally giving in to the one thing they had both wanted for so long. It felt good to hold her and Williams wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly to him. He could feel her bosom pressing against his chest. The scent of her hair was a light jasmine and he could hardly believe that after all they’d been through that she could smell that good to him. He wanted more. But, William thought, is a kiss all that she wants? If it is, he reasoned, he would be satisfied with that. He would find a way to be.

  
His breath stuttered when she took down the suspenders from his shoulders and he kissed her with double the passion, lifting her into his arms and placing her down on some nearby crates. She let out a moan of surprise and smiled at him before kissing him again and undoing the buttons of his undershirt. He unbuttoned hers and pushed the material to her waist as she reached for his belt and flies. _Yes, yes, yes_ , his brain screamed and, as he pulled away from another kiss, he took the time to gaze down at her chemise and that was when it struck him: he really wasn’t worried about Julia and what she’d think. Juliet was a world and a half away and he was just inches from Delores. She was his and his alone. They wouldn’t be interrupted. No one would stop them.

  
He moved the material at her shoulder aside and kissed her skin, noting now that her scent was more earthy and it seemed to suit her. He trailed kisses along her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, up her neck, until finally, he gently nuzzled her cheek and fell at her mouth once more, lost to the feel of her and his building erection. Lifting her, he turned about and laid her on the red-cushioned chaise lounge that was among the other household goods in the baggage car.

  
She wore no corset. Her nipples were erect and he glanced at her face, seeking permission to brush them with his thumb through the material. She smiled and closed her eyes and he watched her head tilt back as he caressed her and cupped her breasts. He kissed the hollow of her throat slowly, languidly, as his hands massaged her. He heard her breath catch.

  
Nothing about this was going to be quickly rushed through; William had made that decision the moment he had kissed Delores’ shoulder. So when her chemise came up and over Delores’s head, he took a long moment to take in the sight of her. Her cheeks were flushed and even in the low light he could see how becoming it was. “William?” she asked. He smiled his answer and kissed the tiny freckle on her ribs, just below her left breast. Her flesh was warm and pliant and he refused to believe that it was anything else but a miracle. She held his head, carding her fingers through his hair, and gave out a giggle when he rubbed his stubble against her skin.

  
“Stop it,” she laughed. “That tickles!” Her eyes were dancing and so real. They had to be. They spoke volumes. Then her gaze was on his hands and where they traced her skin, and when they came back to meet his eyes, they were willing and hopeful and laced with _please William save me_.

  
It took his breath away.

  
“Jesus, Delores,” he said. It was a prayer.

  
He kissed her again and slid his hands down her torso to her hips but her hands were there before his, unbuttoning her flies and pushing the material down and away. He moved back and helped her. Soon she was a vision: naked, longing for him on a bed of crushed red velvet.

  
He took off his shirt and gave her a quick kiss before tracing his mouth down her skin to her nipple. He suckled at it and heard her moan. His erection was becoming painful. He pulled it from his trousers and stroked himself. Delores arched her back and slid her legs up the outside of his thighs until her knees gripped his waist. He gave her a glance before switching to the other nipple and moving his hand from his cock to her cunt. Delores shifted, a pleasurable yet surprised sound escaping her followed by: “Oh William. My sweet William.”

  
He put a finger inside her warmth, his thumb along her clit, and listened as she tried to take in the sensation. He lifted away from her nipple, satisfied with the rosy pink of it, and watched her as he moved inside her. Her eyes were out of focus, first with him, and then away, as William imagined the heat building inside of her. “Hey,” he whispered. “Hey… stay with me.” Her eyes met his again and she smiled. “How about two?” he asked and smoothly inserted a second finger inside her folds.

  
Delores’ mouth dropped open and her eyes closed. Finally she managed: “Oh god, William! Never in my life-” But she couldn’t finish the sentence.

  
Williams smiled at her and peppered her face with soft kisses: forehead, cheeks, and finally a lingering kiss to her mouth. He could feel her buck and grind against him, as if she were searching for something deeper from him. She was wet against his hand.

  
He wanted to taste her, feel her grind against the sensation of his tongue and lips. He sat back, not removing his hand at first, as he pressed hot kisses to the insides of her thighs. Her legs went on forever. He nuzzled her mound and licked the line between thigh and pussy and he saw her grab at the cushion beneath her with her nails. His cock throbbed at the thought of taking her.

  
Delores was panting and keening. He never wanted her to stop. She was almost overwhelming. She had a musky scent tinged with the same jasmine overtones and when he finally took her clit in his mouth, she tasted… exquisite. His tongue licked along and flicked at the nubbin of flesh. His lips played with her labia, gently pulling between licking her, creating a rhythm of sensation for her which allowed her to gently rock against him as her cries became a mantra of: “Oh William oh William oh William…”

  
Her moans were becoming more and more lascivious as he worked. He loved her like this. She was herself, completely. And so was he. There was no one to judge them, no one to condemn or condone, perverting the purity of the moment. This was the most free William had ever felt and all he wanted to do was to make her come. She was close, he knew. Her breathing became more shallow, her moans more frequent. She ground her hips rhythmically against him and he lay his forearm across her to keep them still. She would come when he wanted her to, she wasn’t going to rush this. Finally, achingly, she arched her back and cried out his name, the scream blending with the distant cry of the train’s whistle as they entered a tunnel in the surrounding mountains. The car went dark.

  
He lined himself up purely by feel and slowly pushed inside her. Her hips tilted up to meet his and he felt her wrap her long legs around him. Her hands were on his shoulders and along his neck, pulling him down to kiss her in the pitch black. The head of his penis felt small resistance at first, but soon he glided down inside her, delicious warmth surrounding his aching cock. When he filled her completely, he waited there long enough to bring both of her legs over his shoulders before pulling out by a fraction only to press back inside.

  
“You alright?” he asked. His mouth was against her ear.

  
“Yes, William,” she said and her warm breath sent a shot of heat to his cock. “Please…” She was begging him for something.

  
“Please what?” he asked.

  
“Please come inside me. End this torture. Please let me have all of you. I love you.”

  
“Oh god, Delores,” was all he could think to say and he slowly undulated his hips in and out of her, carefully increasing the distance he traveled with each thrust. Soon his slow, measured strokes pulled him almost all the way out only to sink back down inside her with more and more force.

  
“Fuck!” she shouted. “More, William. More? Please?”

  
He knew what she meant. He increased his pace, eventually hearing the satisfying smack and suck of wet skin-on-skin. She was unbelievably wet and he told her so.

  
“For you, William,” she panted, “only for you. Just you. My love. Oh god!” She came again and William watched her eyes roll back and her mouth fall open and he felt himself falling for her. She was too perfect.  
Soon his rhythm matched the sounds of the train as it traveled along the rails. The words that had seemed to form ( _go back go back go back_ ) had now changed as he felt his balls draw up and his belly tighten. _She’s mine she’s mine she’s mine_ echoed in his ears as the crest of his orgasm lifted him up, allowed him to teeter on the edge for a split second, before plunging him down and around inside the whirlpool of release.

  
The dying sunlight glared through the high windows of the car as they came out of the long tunnel. Night was upon them, but William barely noticed. All he saw was a soft smile, stunning blue eyes softened by orgasm, and, as sleep took them both, his mind formed the germ of an idea that he could find a way to rule this place and hold this moment forever.


End file.
